


An Ocean Not to Break

by hardtoconcentrate



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Witch Curses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2019-01-07 14:36:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12234894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hardtoconcentrate/pseuds/hardtoconcentrate
Summary: Every offseason feels like a bad taste in their mouths, the remnants of a dream turned into a nightmare time and time again. After a while, the commentators start discussing if the Russian Federation lied about Sasha carrying the cursebreaking gene full stop; it gets bad enough that Don Cherry calls publicly for him to submit to gene sequencing.“It’s fine,” Sasha insists one morning, as they’re watching Sportscenter before an early morning skate. Nicklas can see his eyes tighten around the edges when Cherry comes back on-screen, raving about how typical this dishonesty is from the Russians.“He doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Nicke mutters, sparing another glance at Sasha before sighing and resting his cheek against the table.A cursebreaker AU.





	An Ocean Not to Break

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kingsoftheimpossible](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingsoftheimpossible/gifts).



> To my favorite cheerleader and partner-in-fic: This would not have even come close to existence without you. Thank you for being the best writing partner ever. 
> 
> Title from "Terrible Love" by The National. Lyric excerpts from "Exile Vilify," also by The National.

_Exile//It takes your mind again_

 

Sasha knows that it’s supposed to be his job to bring this team a Stanley Cup. He knows why he was drafted first overall, and he knows that his mother’s legacy carries a lot of weight as a cursebreaker. He knows that Ted Leonsis has had one eye on Russia ever since he found out that Tatyana Kabayeva had married and had a son who played hockey. The weight of the black and blue cap on his head is heavy on his heart, and of all the things he knows, he doesn’t know how to tell the team that their future cursebreaker carries his own curse around.

Then the lockout comes, and he doesn’t have to yet.

 

_Exile//It takes your mind again_

 

Nicklas doesn’t know what to expect from the man- _boy,_ Nicke reminds himself, they’re only one year apart - who the pundits are calling the next coming of Mario Lemieux. His breath is surprisingly soft against Nicke’s ear as he whispers “Welcome to Washington, nice to meet,” before they pose for a picture.

His arm is warm against Nicke’s side as he pulls him in with a wide grin. He doesn’t know why he notices that, and he doesn’t know why he’s still thinking about it later that night, when he’s staring at his new jersey wondering how in the world he’s supposed to keep up with Alexander Ovechkin.

 

_You've got suckers' luck//Have you given up?_

 

It has to be hockey, Sasha tells himself. It has to. He’s spent too much time and put too much heart into this godforsaken sport for it to not be his personal cursebreaker. He’s in love with this sport, and while he knows it hasn’t been kind to him by his family’s typical standards, he thinks it could be, someday. He hopes it could be. This is the only kind of love he’s ever wanted since he was a child, and like any fool in love, he believes that he can only hope and wait for it to love him back.

 

_Does it feel like a trial?//Does it trouble your mind the way you trouble mine?_

 

Every offseason feels like a bad taste in their mouths, the remnants of a dream turned into a nightmare time and time again. After a while, the commentators start discussing if the Russian Federation lied about Sasha carrying the cursebreaking gene full stop; it gets bad enough that Don Cherry calls publicly for him to submit to gene sequencing.

“It’s fine,” Sasha insists one morning, as they’re watching Sportscenter before an early morning skate. Nicklas can see his eyes tighten around the edges when Cherry comes back on-screen, raving about how typical this dishonesty is from the Russians.

“He doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Nicke mutters, sparing another glance at Sasha before sighing and resting his cheek against the table.

Sasha leans back in his chair and crosses his arms, pursing his lips. Nicke can recognize the expression for what it is; the team’s resident chatterbox actually parsing through what he wants to say next.

At that moment, Nicke realizes that the man in front of him is not the boy with whom he took that picture so long ago. The man in front of him has been hardened by criticism and false accusations, and there’s a defeated glint in Sasha’s eyes that tells Nicke that even that might not be the whole story. Whatever it is, Nicke suddenly wants to know.

 

_Oh, you meant so much//Have you given up?_

 

Just when Sasha thought his own bad luck couldn’t haunt him any further, the NHL announces a lockout again. He talks it over with his agent, he talks it over with his parents. He has nowhere else to go but back to Dynamo.

Nicke comes to Russia with him. Of course he does. While Sasha is entirely unsurprised, he can’t deny that Nicke’s adamant declaration to follow him home fills him with an unexpected giddiness. It feels like a promise of something more, past just a change of scenery. Nicke tells him that he’s coming along with a look that tells him it’s a non-negotiable decision, and Sasha’s heart feels warm for the first time in a long time.

The plane ride to Moscow is quiet. Nicke asks Sasha to teach him some basic Russian, and they stay in Sasha’s bedroom the entirety of their first day in the city, exchanging a bottle of Russian Standard while Sasha laughs at Nicke’s terrible pronunciation.

He can’t shake Nicke’s presence after that, and as Nicke skates elatedly into his arms game after game, he starts to think he doesn’t want to. He tries not to think too hard about what that might mean.

 

_Does it feel like a trial?//Does it trouble your mind the way you trouble mine?_

 

Kuzya’s the first one to mention it to Sasha, asking him in quiet Russian, “What’s going on between you and Backy?”

He’s stunned into silence for a moment.

“I- Nicky’s my teammate. Nothing’s going on. Why?” Sasha stutters out, and he can feel his cheeks pinking slightly. Fuck.

"You've been playing a lot better since you two came back from Russia. And I see the way you look at him on the ice." Kuzya's tone isn't judgmental or accusative, just curious, but Sasha still feels like he's been dunked into a tank of ice water.

"Nothing’s going on," Sasha replies weakly, and it's the truth but also somehow not at the same time. "Nothing at all."

Sasha scores two goals that night right off Nicke's stick. Nicke ends up barreling into him after the first, jubilant and laughing, his breath warm against Sasha’s neck. Afterwards, Sasha can’t fully deny to himself that he might have scored the second just to feel Nicke’s solid presence in his arms again, to see another of the smiles that light up Nicke’s face from ear to ear. Sasha thinks he might have some reevaluating to do. Of his entire life.

 

_Now you’re thinking too fast//You’re like marbles on glass_

 

Why losses to the Penguins season after season feel worse than losing to any other team, Sasha doesn’t know. This year, it’s 7 games, and a 118-point season goes down the drain. Sasha’s mouth goes dry when he sees Zhenya celebrating on the ice with his team, and he all but trips over himself to be the first one to go into the locker room after the final buzzer. Nobody questions him after series losses anymore. Usually, they let him leave as quietly as possible, let him bury his emotions and frustrations for a night before showing his face to the media.

Nicke, ever the realist, is the one to bring up the elephant in the room instead. Before Sasha can finish packing up all his gear and rush out the door, Nicke stops him - a hand on his shoulder, that’s all it takes. Sasha is jarred enough by the touch that he freezes.

“I think we need to talk,” Nicke murmurs so only the two of them can hear, though Sasha can feel the eyes of his entire team on them both.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, Nicky,” Sasha replies automatically, blinking and attempting to return to his packing. Nicke narrows his eyes at him before getting up and striding into the hallway. Sasha knows he has no choice but to follow. He’s never had a choice. Frustrated, Sasha watches him go for a few moments before throwing his skates into his gear bag, zipping it up a bit too forcefully, and dragging himself out of the room.

It’s almost anticlimactic, the way that Nicke is just leaning against the wall and looking at his phone as he waits for Sasha. The sight is somehow simultaneously irritating and endearing. It’s a combination that Sasha has come to accept as common when it comes to his feelings towards Nicke.

“We've been playing, and losing, together for ten years, but you've been avoiding me for the past week. What’s going on?” Nicke asks flatly, putting his phone back into his pocket and watching Sasha with cool, judgment-free eyes.

“I can’t explain,” Sasha admits, avoiding his gaze.

“Try me,” Nicke challenges, standing up straight once again and taking one step closer to Sasha.

“You don’t know what you’re getting into,” Sasha whispers, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. When he opens his eyes, Nicke is still watching him, prompting him to continue without saying a word.

Sasha closes his eyes again.

“I got cursed by a witch when I was four years old, and now I can’t break any curses until I find what I love the most in world and it loves me too.”

“Have you found it?”

The placid question startles Sasha into opening his eyes, watching Nicke unsurely.

“Thought it was hockey, but… Game can’t love you back.”

Nicke’s voice is subdued when he asks, “You _thought_ it was hockey.”

“Yes.”

“You don’t think so anymore?”

Sasha pauses for a moment, before haltingly admitting, “No.”

Nicke nods slightly, seemingly to himself.

“What about now?”

Sasha shrugs helplessly.

“Does whatever it is love you back yet?”

“I don’t know,” Sasha confesses resignedly, “I haven’t asked him.”

Nicke’s expression changes from cautious to clear, and he clears his throat before asking carefully, “Why haven’t you?”

“I don’t know,” Sasha repeats, defensively. He feels oddly put on the spot by Nicke’sgaze, wants something, anything, to put emotion on his face. Nicke doesn’t reply, seemingly determined to wait him out. Sasha doesn’t know what Nicke’s thinking right now, and he doesn’t know whether he wants to or not. It’s unsettling how unreadable Nicke can be when he wants to. Nicke is just _looking_ at him, and it makes Sasha shift his weight slightly and swear under his breath, uncomfortable. His next words come out of his mouth as if out of his control.

“Do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Love me.”

“Oh. No,” Nicke’s voice is calm and self-assured, despite sending Sasha’s heart to the deepest pits of his stomach. Sasha swallows, not trusting himself to speak, and nods. As he takes a step - to turn away, to leave, he’s not sure - Nicke stops Sasha with that same gentle press of his hand over Sasha’s heart.

“Let me finish,” Nicke chides, his eyes betraying a hint of amusement.

He lets his hand drop back down Sasha’s body slightly. It comes to rest an inch above his hip, where the warmth of Nicke’s hand feels like it’s burning a brand into Sasha’s skin.

“I don’t love you, but I don’t think I’m far off.” Nicke completes his sentence with a small smile.

He lets his hand rest gently on Sasha’s hip, waiting -- always waiting -- until Sasha’s own tentatively comes up to meet it, lacing their fingers together.  

 

_Does it feel like a trial?//Does it trouble your mind the way you trouble mine?_

 

Sasha scores a hat trick the night that Nicke first kisses him. It’s their first game of the new season, but it’s a night in late March when they choose to tell the rest of the team in the locker room. Amidst the frustrated exchange of money to a very triumphant Willy and Holts, they go out and clinch their playoff spot that very night.

When Nicke wraps his arms around him in bed and whispers a quiet “I love you” into his ear, Sasha is dizzy. He’s been cursed for so long, the enormity of it leaving him is like the sun rising after an eternal night, like a vice grip on his heart has let him go. He gasps, breathless, and the next inhale feels the first he’s ever taken, filling him all at once. Sasha already knows what will come next. The Cup will make a great shared champagne glass for a day on their dining room table, he thinks. For now, though, he’s content to just kiss Nicke’s hair and whisper the declaration right back into his ear, the breaking of a curse and the creation of a promise all at once.

**Author's Note:**

> To my lovely recipient: Thank you for giving me such detailed and fantastic prompts. I really like your work, and I just hope I was able to do you justice in any way with this little trinket.


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